


Xeroderma pigmentosum

by asamandra



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 08:29:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14468823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asamandra/pseuds/asamandra
Summary: Phil was lonely. It was pathetic, he knew that, but after almost hundred years living alone he realized that he was lonely. He sold his mansion in North Carolina and bought himself a very exclusive apartment in New York. Nevertheless, Phil was still lonely. He needed a room mate and so he placed an ad on craigslist.





	Xeroderma pigmentosum

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://midghtwishesunheard.tumblr.com/post/172976101098/asamandra-midghtwishesunheard) post on tumblr:
> 
> AU where Persons A and B are roommates and A is a vampire and doesn’t even hide it but B just thinks they’re joking all the time.

Phil was lonely. It was pathetic, he knew that, but after almost hundred years living alone he realized that he was lonely. He sold his mansion in North Carolina and bought himself a very exclusive apartment in New York. Tony Stark had completed his tower and he sold a few of the apartments he had there and Phil liked the location and the view. And he could even convince Stark to build in UV proof windows. He had frowned but Phil had told him that he suffered from Xeroderma pigmentosum and Stark had nodded and built in new windows in his apartment.

Nevertheless, Phil was still lonely. He lived in the middle of New York now and yet, he was alone in his huge apartment. In the nights he went out but it was, it was just not the same. When he was in his apartment - a whole floor just for himself - it was quiet. For a moment he thought about an animal but cats didn’t like his kind, dogs feared him and the only animals who were adaptable enough to live with vampires were lizards or snakes. And he didn’t like both of them. So, no animals. 

He needed a room mate and so he placed an ad on craigslist. Maybe he was old but he always kept up with the times. He wasn’t interested in money and so he kept the rent to a minimum but apparently everyone thought it was a joke. 

Until someone called him. 

“Uh… hi,” a male voice said when he took the call and Phil could hear a young voice. 

“Hello,” he said and he could hear the guy rustling with something at the end of the line. 

“Yeah, uh… I saw your… your ad on craigslist and…” the guy stopped. “Is this real?” 

“Yes, it is, Mr….” he realized the caller didn’t tell him his name. 

“Clint Barton,” the man said. 

“Would you like to see the room, Mr. Barton?” He asked. 

“Uh… sure,” the guy said after a moment. “Sure. 200 Park Avenue, right?” 

Phil couldn’t hold back the smile. “Right,” he said and they made an appointment the next afternoon. He smiled the rest of the night and treated himself to a nice glass of B positive, his favorite drink. 

He leaned back in his comfortable armchair, listened to his favorite Kenny G. album and enjoyed his evening.

***

Phil pursed his lips. He stood in his dressing room and looked at his clothes. He didn’t want to wear a suit, no need to scare the only one interested in the room away immediately. The guy - Clint Barton - sounded young and he wanted to look a little more casual.

Jeans! Yes, jeans were a good idea. And a shirt. Not a dress shirt, something more comfortable. He pursed his lips again. He had comfortable shirts, he had bought some. But where were they? His charwoman… no, what was the term they used nowadays? Oh yes, housecleaner! His house cleaner, Mrs. Lopez, always put his clothes away in his dressing room but where were his casual shirts? He found them in a stack in the back, of the room where he had his old, cast-off clothes he didn’t want to throw away yet. 

He put on some jeans and a green polo shirt and looked at himself in the mirror. Yes, the thing with the mirror image was a myth and Phil smirked at himself now. 

The doorbell rang and he looked at his watch. He was punctual, Phil liked that. With a smile on his face he went to the door and opened it. He had called the concierge and he wouldn’t’ve left someone else up to him. 

Outside stood a young man, early twenty he would say. He had spiky hair and a cute smile. And he smelled irresistible. 

“Hi,” the man said and looked at him disbelievingly. “I’m… uh… I’m Clint Barton and… uhm… apparently the concierge let me up so this is no joke, right?” 

“No, Mr. Barton, this is no joke,” Phil said and stepped aside. The man hesitated for a moment but then he entered the apartment. 

“Wow!” he blurted, his eyes wide. He looked around curiously in the spacious living room and then repeated, “wow.” 

“Okay, this is it,” Phil said and made an inviting gesture with his hand. 

“Just… don’t get me wrong, Mr. Coulson…” Barton started and looked around again. “You clearly don’t need the money.” 

Phil chuckled and nodded. “No, Mr. Barton,” he said.

“Clint,” Barton interrupted him. Phil nodded again.

“Clint,” he repeated. He liked the name. It suited him. He liked how it sounded on his tongue. Was that weird? Yes, maybe it was. “Clint,” he said again. “You’re right. I don’t need the money. But I have enough space and I thought it would be nice to share it.” 

“So… you really mean I could live here for just 200 bucks? That’s no joke,” Clint said and Phil shook his head. 

“No joke,” he repeated. “Well, in case you like your rooms. And if you can imagine to live here with me,” Phil said with a smile. 

“Can… uh… can I see the room?” he asked.

“Oh!” Phil said, “of course. Follow me.” He went to the part with the bedrooms. He opened the second door on the right side and went in. “That’s it. It’s fully furnished if you want. Or you can replace the furnishings with your own stuff.” 

Clint’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god, that’s awesome.” 

“This apartment has two guestrooms and I only need one. Okay, here’s the bedroom,” Phil gestured around and went to the other door and opened it. “Here’s the dressing room and right beside it the bathroom.” 

“Jesus F. Christ!” Clint blurted. “This? This is the room?” 

“Too small?” Phil asked and Clint’s eyes went even wider. 

“No, it’s… it’s awesome. And… you really want only 200 dollars for it?” 

Phil shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “Like I said, I don’t need the money.” 

“So… uhm…” Clint said and shuffled his feet. “If you… uh… if you’d be okay, I would take the room.” 

“Welcome in your new home,” Phil said and held his hand out and Clint took it to shake it. 

“Thanks, Mr. Coulson,” he smiled and Phil licked his lips. 

“Phil,” he said. “Call me Phil.”

***

Clint moved in a week later. He had a suitcase, two boxes and a weird long case.

“Where’s the rest of your stuff?” Phil asked and Clint blushed violently. 

“It’s… uh… it’s everything I have,” he said. Phil looked at the two boxes and then nodded. 

“Okay,” he smiled. “There’s just one thing.” 

Phil gestured for him to follow him. He led him through the living room to the kitchen and to a door beside it, the storage room. “You can take everything you see here,” he gestured at all kinds of foodstuff. “But this shelf,” he pointed at the cooled wine rack he had there, “is taboo.” Bottles with blood, disguised as wine, stood there. “If you want to drink wine, take this one,” he pointed at another shelf.

“Okay, understood,” Clint said. “Your wine, out of bounds.” 

Phil smiled and went back to the living room. 

“What’s with the windows?” Clint, who followed him, asked. 

“Oh, they block out UV light,” Phil said. Clint raised a brow. 

“And… uhm… why?” 

Phil pursed his lips. He could lie, could tell him the thing with Xeroderma pigmentosum but the two of them shared an apartment now and it was only fair to tell him the truth. “Because I’m a vampire,” he said. Clint looked at him, his eyes widened and then he started to laugh. 

“Yeah, that’s a good one,” he chuckled. “And I’m bigfoot.” He grinned. “You’re funny, Phil.” 

Phil cocked his head and pursed his lips again. And then he smiled, too. Maybe it was too early to tell him the truth. He would learn. 

“Really?” he said then. “You’re the first one who thinks that.” 

Clint looked at him, smiling with sparkling eyes, and Phil couldn’t help himself, he licked his lips. 

“You’re pretty well stocked,” Clint said then and nodded at the shelves behind Phil. “Want me to cook something? To… uhm… to celebrate our apartment-sharing community,” he grinned. 

“You can cook?” Phil asked and Clint nodded and waggled his brows. 

“I’m pretty good,” he said. “At least, that’s what my friends say.” 

“Okay,” Phil nodded after a moment. “Want me to help?” 

“No,” he shook his head. “Sit down and relax, it’s my treat,” he said, then looked at the food Phil had bought. “Well, so to speak,” he added then with a smile and a shrug. 

“All right, all right,” he said and raised both hands in surrender. “But I’m allowed to set the table, right?” 

“Okay,” Clint laughed and Phil went to do that while he collected stuff out of the storage room. And Phil sat down on the breakfast bar and watched him.

***

Phil liked Clint. It was fun to have him around. And he even started some sort of routine. Clint came home from college when Phil rose. Usually they ate together and then Clint went to his room to learn or do stuff for his classes. Later he came back to the living room. Phil had offered him to use his huge TV and his entertainment system since he seldom used it and he could even set up his Xbox. Sometimes they even watched a movie or TV show together or Phil watched Clint play games on his console. When he went to bed Phil went to his office. After all, he had a fortune to manage. In 500 years he had amassed quite some money and it needed time to take care of it.

He worked for a few hours, with a few breaks every now and then and in the mornings he went to the kitchen to make coffee. Clint was like a zombie when he woke up and he needed half a jug to be able to realize where he was. 

“Why do you always work at night?” Clint asked after a few weeks and looked at him over his mug. 

“Vampire, remember?” Phil smiled and Clint snorted.

“Oh yeah, how could I forget,” he said. “And don’t be surprised when you hear weird noises out of my room the next full moon. Then I’m turning in a werewolf.” 

Phil smirked. He knew a few werewolves and he knew that they didn’t need the full moon to change. They just liked it and they liked to howl at it. Another myth people still believed. 

And Clint lacked the typical doggish werewolf stench. He was definitely not one of them. 

“I will keep that in mind,” he said and raised his glass to take a sip. 

Clint emptied his mug, looked at the clock on the microwave, groaned and rose. 

“Have to go to class,” he said and sighed. “Way too early if you ask me.” 

Phil nodded slowly. He waited till Clint was gone before he rose, rinsed out his glass and put it in the dishwasher afterwards. He put Clint’s mug in it, too, and then he started it. 

The sun was up pretty high now and despite the UV-proof windows, he still felt uncomfortable and so he yawned and went to his bedroom. He put on his pajamas and lay down in his bed. 

And he smiled, when he fell asleep.

***

“Can I invite people over?” Clint asked one afternoon. He had cooked again and they sat together at the table and ate. Phil didn’t need to eat _real_ food, it couldn’t nurture him anymore, but he liked the taste, the textures and the mouthfeel of it. And it was nice to sit with Clint and eat together. He always told him about college, about his professors and his fellow students. Phil laughed a lot more than in the hundred years before.

“Of course you can,” he said and put his fork down to take a sip from his _wine_. “You live here, too. You just have to call the concierge, otherwise he won’t let them in.” 

“Cool,” Clint had said and smiled. 

Later that evening, when Clint lounged on the couch and played a game on his Xbox Phil went over and sat down in the armchair, a glass of blood in his hand and he watched him for a while. He was pretty skilled he had to admit. 

“You drink a lot of wine,” Clint said out of the blue. He had stopped playing and looked at Phil now. 

“It’s not wine, it’s blood,” he said. Clint raised a brow, then a smirk appeared on his lips again and he shook his head.

“Anyone ever told you that you’re a dork, Phil Coulson?” he asked and Phil couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling up. 

“No,” he said. “Not in the last 500 years.” 

“Oh, really? 500 years?” Clint said and raised a brow. “You aged gracefully. You definitely look not a day older than 400.” 

“Thank you,” Phil said and raised his glass in Clint’s direction.

***

Phil sat in the living room and listened to Nina Simone when he got interrupted by the doorbell. He didn’t expect someone but he rose, stopped the record player and went to the door and opened it.

“Hi,” he red-haired woman - around Clint’s age - said and smiled. 

“Hello,” Phil said and frowned. 

“Is this where Clint Barton lives?” She asked. 

Phil nodded. “Yes,” Phil said. “He’s here.” 

“I’m Natasha,” the woman said and held her hand out. Phil looked at it for a while and then he took it and shook it. 

“Phil,” he said. He remembered his manners and stepped aside. Natasha entered the apartment and looked around curiously and a little bit impressed. “He didn’t tell me that he expected guests.” 

“He… uh… it was spontaneous. He said he lived here and I didn’t believe it,” she said with a sheepish grin. 

Phil pointed at the door that led to the bedrooms. “Over there, second door on the right side,” he said. She nodded, smiled and went to the door. He watched her for a moment - she was pretty - and then went back to his armchair, started the Nine Simone album anew and leaned back. 

Two hours later Phil had started to work when he heard the door to Clint’s room and both, Clint and Natasha, came to the living room. He was just in the kitchen to get some coffee when they went to the entrance door. 

“Bye, Phil,” Natasha waved at him and Clint hugged her as goodbye. He came over to him when he had closed the door and smiled broadly. 

“That was Nat,” he said and sat down at the breakfast bar. Phil, who just stirred sugar in his cup, looked up. 

“Girlfriend?” He asked took a small sip of coffee. 

“What?” Clint blurted. “Nat? No,” he said and shook his head. “No, she… she’s just my best friend.” 

“Ah,” Phil said, went to the cupboard to get another cup, filled it with coffee and shoved it over to Clint. 

“She… uh… she doesn’t swing that way,” he said. “And… and me neither.” He blushed. Phil looked at him and raised a brow. “I… uhm… I hope that’s not a problem.” 

It took him some time but then Phil understood. “Oh!” he said. “No,” he shook his head. “No, that’s not a problem.” 

“Okay,” Clint said and he sounded relieved. “It’s just…” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Clint,” Phil smiled. 

“Thank you,” Clint said. He took his cup and rose. “Good night, Phil,” he said and looked at him for a long moment. And then he nodded.

***

Phil heard Clint leave the apartment. He started the dishwasher, took a shower and went to bed. But he couldn’t sleep. He just lay there, stared at the ceiling and cursed the thoughts running through his brain.

Clint said he didn’t swing _that_ way. That meant he liked men. It probably meant he liked men. He didn’t ask. 

But it was possible. The way he had looked at him a few times and… no! No, it wasn’t possible. Clint was just twenty-one years old and he was 538. He was too old, even if… even if Clint would… oh god, he couldn’t believe that he just had that thought… even if Clint would be interested in him. 

He was 538 years old, he came to this country when it was still young, when it wasn’t even a real country. He had seen Christopher Columbus for crying out loud. Sure, he was a little boy back then but he had _seen_ him. 

And Clint? Clint was a good looking young man who was only sharing his apartment with him. It was… nothing more… nothing more… 

But what really put a damper on everything that could or could not happen between them was the fact that he was undead and Clint was not. Sometimes he really hated his not-life. And he hated the man who _killed_ him. 

No, he had to put the idea right out of his mind. It would never work. Never. 

He closed his eyes and started to count. One - two - one - two - one - two - one - two… it was a technique to bore his mind and to fall asleep and - as usual - it worked.

***

“Phil,” Clint said one morning before he had to leave to go to class. “Why did you give me the room?”

“Why?” Phil frowned. “I told you… I had enough space and…” 

“No, I mean… why did you give _me_ the room?” 

Phil, who leaned against one of the kitchen counters, licked his lips. 

“I liked you,” he admitted. 

“But…” Clint bit his lip and cocked his head. “But what if…” 

Phil looked at his feet and then he shook his head. 

“No,” he said. “It… it wouldn’t work.” 

“How do you know?” Clint asked. 

“I’m… I’m not like you. I’m… older… and…” 

“... a vampire,” he finished Phil’s sentence. “I know.” 

“You… know?” Phil’s head snapped up. “You always laughed when I told you.” 

“But yet, I believed you,” Clint said and shrugged. 

Phil blinked and licked his lips again. “Why?” 

“I… I see things,” Clint said. “My eyes are better than anyone else’s eyes. I _see_ things, Phil.” 

“Things?” 

“I can see the difference between wine and blood, I can see your fangs when you smile and if you really had Xeroderma pigmentosum like you told Stark then your skin wouldn’t be so unblemished.” 

“Clint,” Phil went around the breakfast bar and stood very close to Clint. He could smell him, his irresistible smell, and he could feel the warmth of his body. “It wouldn’t work because I’m so much older than you and…” 

“Give me a chance,” Clint said. “Go out with me. Go for a coffee with me or… or dinner. If it doesn’t work, then… then I move out and you will never see me again. Promise.” 

Phil scrutinized him, he could hear his heartbeat and he knew he was serious. It wasn’t a joke or something, he really wanted to go out with him. And he really meant that he would disappear if it didn’t work out between them. But Phil liked his company and he didn’t want him to move out. Maybe he was selfish but… 

“Okay,” he could hear himself say. “Okay, I… let’s go for dinner. This afternoon, when you’re back from college.” 

“Cool!” Clint grinned and Phil grinned, too. 

“Hey, Phil,” he said when he was almost at the door. “Where did you get those sweet fake fangs?” 

“They are real. Vampire, remember?” 

“Sure you are,” Clint smirked. “And I’m El Chupacabra.” 

And Phil laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> [asamandra on tumblr](http://asamandra.tumblr.com/)   
>  [clintbartonruinedmylife on tumblr](https://clintbartonruinedmylife.tumblr.com/)   
> 


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